


What Makes Life Divine

by Nicnac



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5642935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicnac/pseuds/Nicnac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I wrote a gay Cinderella story. With Smallville characters." -Nicnac to her roommate</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Makes Life Divine

**Author's Note:**

> This story was sitting 75% done in my WIP folder when my (probably psychic, since I didn't mention I was working on this story but my non-Smallville fan roommate) gifter in the Clexmas Secret Santa exchange gave me [these.](http://clexmas.livejournal.com/113949.html) They're both so adorable, it inspired me to finish my story.

Once upon a time, there was a young couple named Jonathan and Martha Kent who lived in a small farming town called Smallville. Jonathan and Martha were a very happy couple save one thing: the first wish of their hearts every morning when they woke up, and the last wish every night before they went to sleep was for a child of their very own, one that was strong and true, intelligent and kind, loyal and good-natured.

“I would not even care if the child were not of our own blood,” Martha confided in Jonathan one night.

“I would not care if it were a foundling child that fell from skies and landed at our feet,” Jonathan responded.

A year and a day later, that is exactly what happened. And while the Kents were very pleased with their gift from the Heavens, the hailstorm of fire that accompanied their new child did teach them to be a bit more responsible with their wishing in the future.

Clark grew up to be as perfect a child as Jonathan and Martha could wish, even if they were occasionally concerned about the extraordinary nature of some of his gifts, and for a time the three of them were very happy. It was not to last, however, and in the winter of Clark’s seventh year Martha fell ill and died. Jonathan despaired of being able to raise a young boy by himself, and soon fell into the arms of his old sweetheart, Nell Potter. Nell had a child of her own, her niece Lana, whom Nell had taken in upon the death of Nell’s sister and husband during the day of the firestorm. Clark often found himself feeling slightly ill in Lana’s presence, but in spite of that, the two liked each other well enough as playmates. And if Nell loved her niece, the child of her own flesh and blood, just a bit more than she did Clark, who had once been the son of her dearest love and his dearest love, she typically did a very good job of hiding it. All four of them might have lead a happy and uneventful life together if not for the accident that then claimed Jonathan’s life. Nell, faced with two young mouths to feed and a farm she wasn’t capable of taking care of, sold the land and moved the three of them to Metropolis, the kingdom’s capital, where she did well enough as a seamstress. And if Clark did somewhat more than his fair share of chores around the house, Nell did have to work and Lana was busy learning what graceful arts she could, in the hopes that her good looks and accomplishments might allow her to marry better than her station or vanishingly small dowry might otherwise allow. Besides, while Clark was a good boy, he often seemed to find himself in the midst of trouble when left at loose ends, so best keep him busy.

One day an announcement went out throughout the kingdom: that in one week’s time there would be a ball celebrating the prince’s twenty-first birthday and all who wished to attend were invited. Furthermore, it was at this ball that the prince would finally chose his bride. Later, no one could completely account for where the latter rumor started, certainly nothing in any official proclamations said anything about bride-hunting, but it was generally regarded to be true regardless. After all, while twenty-one wasn’t a terrible old age for most young men to be unmarried at, it did seem to be getting on in years for the sole heir to the throne, when he didn’t even have an especially coy lady-love or a wasting illness that doctors hoped yet to cure or some other circumstance to explain his continued bachelorhood.

Every seamstress and tailor in the city soon found themselves inundated with work and Nell stayed up until the early hours of the morning every night that week working on commissions, as well as outfits for herself and her two children. By the afternoon of the day of the ball she had made enough money to last them through the summer, two gorgeous ball gowns for herself and Lana, and one half-finished suit for Clark.

“It’s alright. I know you were busy,” Clark said with a wistful smile and watery eyes – the latter caused by a small bug with a poor sense of direction – as he hugged Lana and Nell goodbye, carefully so as not to muss their dresses. “Both of you have fun.”

Once the two women had disappeared from sight, Clark blinked his tears away, one rolling in a fat drop down his cheek and falling to the ground. He turned back to the house, thinking he could use the opportunity to clean out the cellar with super-speed while still leaving no one the wiser, but he could reach the door he was stopped by a noise behind him. A noise that sounded like nothing so much as what Clark imagined light sparkling through a prism would sound like, if it had a noise. He turned around and behind him, standing on the very spot his tear had landed, was a bright young woman with short blonde hair and a very large and very overdone blue dress.

It is a little known fact that whenever a pure-hearted maiden cries a tear of utter despair, a fairy godmother will appear to grant her heart’s truest desire. Given that it was Chloe’s very first day on the job, her mistake was, perhaps, forgivable.

“You don’t look like a fair maiden,” Chloe said. “And I don’t think you’ve been crying either.”

“I had a bug in my eye,” offered Clark. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

At this Chloe straightened and waved her wand a bit in what was, presumably, supposed to be a graceful and majestic gesture. “My name is Chloe and I’m your fairy godmother. I’ve come to grant your heart’s truest desire.”

“Thank you, but I don’t need anything.” Clark had learned from his parents the dangers of wishing irresponsibly and it seemed to him that granting his heart’s truest desire, if he were even to know what that as, was far too big a wish not to turn out wrong somehow.

“There has to be something I can do for you,” Chloe protested. “I can’t let my first assignment be a complete failure.”

Luckily for Chloe, Clark was more moved by sympathy for her plight than he was disturbed by the implications of her statement, so he considered for a moment before suggesting, “I was planning on attending the birthday ball for the Prince this evening, but Nell wasn’t able to finish my suit in time. Maybe you could make something for me to wear?”

Chloe clapped her hands in delight. “I can do that! And we’ll have to get you to the ball in style too. Let’s see, mice for horses, lizards for the footmen, and I think a goose as the coachman. Do you have any pumpkins lying around, by chance? Or squash, or any sort of gourd really. Maybe an heirloom tomato if we’re getting really desperate, but I do not do my best work with fruit.”

“Thanks for the thought, but I don’t actually need a coach or anything like that. Just an outfit,” Clark said. He’d get to the castle much faster if he just ran, and he’d hardly be the only one arriving on foot to this particular event. Though it would been kind of interesting to see how she managed to turn a zucchini into a way to get him to the ball ‘in style.’ Being a gentleman in nature if not in standing, he did not mention that gourds were actually fruit.

Chloe looked less than pleased with his modest request. “Fine, just the clothes then.” She waved her wand in his direction and in an instant, Clark’s plain and serviceable shirt and breeches turned into the most amazing outfit he could have imagined, something suited to a duke, or even a prince.

“Wow, that was – wait, are these shoes made of glass?” Clark asked, looking down at his very visible feet.

“Pure Venetian,” Chloe confirmed. “But don’t worry; they’re magic, so they won’t break or rub and you can dance in them all night and they’ll stay comfortable.”

Clark wasn’t sure he’d be dancing at all tonight, given he never learned how, but that seemed like a secondary concern at the moment. “But they’re made of glass! You can see right through them.”

“Exactly! You have really nice feet. Very… large.” Chloe’s words trailed off and her eyes started to glaze over. Clark even thought she was drooling a bit.

“Uh, Chloe?”

“Right!” Chloe said, snapping out of it. “As I was saying, the shoes are a very good look for you. In fact” – she waved her wand again, this time directed at his feet – “I’m going to let you keep them after the ball, which isn’t allowed, strictly speaking, but they look too good to let anyone else wear them. The rest of the magic isn’t going to last forever, so make sure you’re home by… let’s say midnight, okay? Other than that stay safe, and make sure you do at least one thing you’ll be embarrassed by tomorrow morning.”

“Chloe-” Clark started to say, because he really felt like they needed to talk about this glass shoe thing more. There had to be other options that would satisfy her need to be ridiculously ostentatious that would be less embarrassing than glass. Shoes as pure as gold, maybe.  Chloe, however, ran right over him.

“And have fun too! Okay, you’re welcome, bye!” And just as suddenly as she had appeared, Chloe was gone.

Well then. Clark peered down at the shoes some more. Honestly, it was a toss-up between these and his work boots as to which would be more embarrassing to wear, but eventually he decided to keep the glass shoes on, because they seemed less likely to get him turned away at the door. And they were very comfortable, even if Clark doubted that the promise they wouldn’t break would hold up at his speeds.

Sighing, Clark slipped the shoes off and cradled them gently in his arms before running to the castle. Once he arrived, he put his shoes back on – after very carefully dipping his bare feet in a relatively clean trough to clean off the dirt from his trip – and found an unobtrusive side entrance to use to slip into the ball and view everything from the sidelines. He planned on enjoying himself, certainly, but he had no interest in being the center of attention, and even less interest in attempting to explain his presence to Lana and Nell, should they spot him.

“Those shoes can’t possibly be made of glass.”

Startled, Clark looked behind him and was confronted with the sight of the most handsome man he had ever seen in his life. Slim and elegant, dressed in finery almost as extravagant as Clark’s own, with striking grey eyes and a scar on his upper lip like the one imperfection to prove the man was real and not just a vision. Though, on a second look, Clark had to admit that his hair, black with a slight curl, didn’t exactly suit him. On the third look, or perhaps fourth, or fifth, Clark realized he was staring at the man very blatantly, and ignoring his question.

“It’s some kind of reinforced glass, I think?” Clark said. “A friend made me wear them. She said I should show off my feet.”

“She wasn’t wrong,” the man responded, and Clark thought his voice almost sounded like… but that was silly. Why would anyone, much less such an attractive man, be interested in Clark in that way? Still, even just the passing thought of it brought a bright flush to Clark’s face.

“Thank you,” he said, managing not to stammer. Then, remembering his manners, he went to introduce himself. “My name is-“

The man brought one hand up and pressed his finger to Clark’s lips, causing Clark’s blush to grow even brighter. “No name, if you please. You see, my father has certain expectations of me this evening, and if I can honestly tell him that I disappeared because I was entertaining an attractive guest, then he can come to his own conclusions and my life will be much easier.”

“You think I’m attractive?” Clark blurted out as soon as his lips were released, and his companion threw his head back and laughed.

“Indeed I do. In fact, I think I will be as bold as to say I like you very much, and hope you will do the honor of joining me for a walk in the gardens,” his companion asked, offering an arm out to Clark.

Clark accepted the proffered arm without, he hoped, too much alacrity, but he did retain enough of his senses to ask as he was being escorted out the side door, “Does this mean I get to know your name, at least?”

His companion gave him a very odd look, before smiling. “No, I think some things should remain a mystery, don’t you?” And Clark, who had only garnered the attention of this singularly handsome man by presenting himself as a noble of some kind, found that he had to agree.

During their walk, the two of them discussed seemingly everything. They had a surprising number of shared interests, or surprising to Clark at least, knowing what different backgrounds they had. His companion had a tendency of going off on tangents about history, or the classics, and was absolutely delighted when Clark not only followed his lectures, but was able to comment on them intelligently; Clark had never been so grateful to both of his mothers’ insistence on having educated, well-read children, whatever their station in society might be. And they both shared stories of their past, Clark being careful not to give away too many details that might hint at who he really was. His companion, either out of a polite response to Clark’s avoidance of the subject, or for his own reasons, perhaps related to why he had declined to share his name, did the same.

Eventually, maybe hours later or maybe only minutes, their walk took them back to a courtyard outside of the main ballroom, where they could hear the faint stirrings of the musicians beginning a new song.

“A waltz,” his companion said, relinquishing Clark’s arm for the first time that night, only to immediately offer his hand. “May I have this dance?”

“I can’t,” Clark said, and at his companion’s crestfallen expression, he hastened to clarify, “I can’t dance. I was never taught how.”

His companion looked at him quizzically and Clark felt his stomach drop out beneath him. What an incredibly stupid thing to say; what lord wasn’t taught how to dance? After a moment, though, his companion’s expression slipped back into the pleasant one he’d been wearing all night. “Well, you’re a luckier man than I, to get out of hours and hours of dance lessons to learn dances I’m sure I’ll never be called upon to actually perform. A waltz, though. A man needs to know how to dance a waltz, if he is to ever have hopes of impressing a young lady.”

“I don’t want to impress any ladies,” Clark said, the boldest statement he’d made all night, and likely a pointless one too, since he’d never see his companion again after the clock struck twelve that evening. But it was worth it to see his companion’s expression brighten.

“Nevertheless, I’m sure there’s someone you want to impress,” he prompted.

“There might be,” Clark said, grinning.

“In that case, allow me to teach you,” his companion said, offering his hand again. This time Clark took it and his companion guided Clark’s other hand up to his shoulder, placing his hand on Clark’s waist. Then he began leading Clark through the steps, starting off slow, and then picking up speed as Clark became used to it.

After a minute, Clark felt confident enough to look up from his feet. When he did, he felt his breath catch. Clark hadn’t thought that his companion could possibly look more handsome, but now that they were so close that Clark could see the lamplight reflected like the dust of the stars in his eyes, Clark felt something stir within him. He tugged his companion closer, until they were dancing with their bodies flush together and he watched his companion’s eyes darken. Clark leaned in even closer, his own eyes fluttering shut as their breaths began to mingle and –

“BONG!”

Clark jerked away, startled. For the first time that evening since he had met his companion, Clark looked up at the clock. He prayed that it might yet say ten, or even eleven, but, to his horror, the sound just now had been the first stroke of midnight.

“I have to go,” Clark said.

“Go? What do you mean, go?” his companion asked, resisting somewhat as Clark pulled out of their embrace, but he was no match for Clark’s strength. As soon as Clark managed to free himself, he turned around and ran as fast as his glass shoes would allow – fortunately, faster than his companion could run, though not nearly as fast as Clark would have liked – ignoring the shouts coming from behind him.

Clark turned a corner and now, safely out of sight for the moment, he bent down to take off his shoes. He grabbed them both with one hand, hoping that, as Chloe had promised, they would last after the rest of the magic wore off and he could keep them to remember the night with forever. Then, just for a moment, he froze. When the moment passed, he stood up, just one shoe in hand, and sped away as fast as he could manage.

All this ended up leaving Prince Lex feeling very perplexed when he came around the corner himself, not the least because he hadn’t been that far behind the other man, certainly not far enough to explain how he could have vanished so completely. Then there was the question of why the man had run away in the first place.

Or rather, what had been the immediate cause of his flight, because Lex was fairly certain he knew the grander why of it. In his experience, a person only ran away from something they didn’t want it, or something they wanted it very, very badly. Of the two explanations, Lex favored the latter, not merely because it was the more self-serving of the two, but because Lex had had enough people throwing themselves at him over the years to be able to recognize passion and affection when he saw it.

Part of Lex, probably the majority of him in fact, wanted to rouse the guards and do everything possible to chase down his captivating stranger. Disappearing act or no, the man couldn’t have gotten too far yet.  But instead, he very calmly bent down and picked up the abandoned crystalline shoe still sitting upright in the middle of the path, as though merely waiting for its owner to come back and slip his foot back in. Lex had not gotten as far as he had by letting emotion totally overrule his common sense, and this was a delicate situation that would become only more so once his father was entered into the mix. If the king caught wind of too much too soon, then, well…  Lex turned the shoe this way and that in his hands, taking advantage of the opportunity to examine the exquisite craftsmanship more closely. Yes, a delicate situation indeed, but if Lex played it well, he was quite certain to get everything and exactly what he wanted.

First though, was getting out of this thrice-damned itchy wig, and making the requisite appearance at the ball that was, after all, being held in his honor.

Lex waited until the midmorning the next day, when his father was holding court, before making his next move; the more witnesses the better. “Your Majesty, I have a happy announcement.” A brief, dramatic pause. “I have found my true love and the one I wish to marry.”

“Really? I had no idea our party last night was such a success,” Lionel said effecting fake surprise to mask his very real surprise. All the reports Lionel had received on the night before suggested that Lex had spent the first part of the evening sulking in that ridiculous hairpiece of his and, once he had finally cast it off and actually decided to attend his own party, he had danced with a wide number of women, not showing a particular preference for any of them. “And what is the young lady’s name?”

“I never got a name; we were too busy with other concerns,” Lex said, his voice so laced with innuendo that everyone in the room immediately began drawing completely inaccurate conclusions.  “As such, I have a request to make of you. I wish to go on a quest.

“A quest to find your lost lady-love; how unexpectedly romantic of you, son. And how do you propose to find her without even a name to go on?”

“I may not have a name, but in the haste of our parting, something else was left behind: a shoe. But not any ordinary shoe, this shoe is made of pure glass, Venetian if I’m not mistaken. And I swear I would try it on every foot in the kingdom, if that is what it takes to find the one it belongs to.”

A hush fell over the court as Lionel considered Lex’s words. Truthfully, many of them doubted that the prince’s request would be granted; the king was not known for his indulgence nor his generosity. But then, before this day the prince had not been known for his flights of fancy either, and yet here he stood speaking of true love and glass slippers, of all things.

Lionel’s thinking went thus: he did not particularly care whom his son married, merely that he did so and quickly. For, the quicker Lex obtained himself a wife, the quicker he would have children, and the quicker Lionel might be able to get his hands on a new heir to raise to replace his last attempt that had turned out so poorly. Now Lionel had a promise from his particularly obstinate son that he would marry as soon as he found the one who fit a shoe. Certainly a woman fitting that description could be found very swiftly indeed, so long as Lionel sent someone he trusted to ensure Lex didn’t waste time finding the exact woman from the night before.

“Very well son, you may have your quest, with a retinue of guards and the steward to accompany you. Go and find this wearer of glass slippers, and I will assure the two of you are married as soon as can be arranged.”

Lex, who well knew the twist and turns of his father’s mind, gave a predator’s smile. “As you say, Your Majesty.”

For a quest, their journey was very tedious. At each home Dominic Sanatori, the steward, would command all the women in the household to present themselves. Lex would then override him, commanding that he wished the entire household to line up, men and women alike. He would walk down the line, inspecting each face closely, before declaring that the one he was looking for was not here, and that they could move on to the next house. Sanatori would then remind him of his vow, and didn’t the prince think the ladies of the house deserved at least a chance to fit the slipper. In fact, Sanatori was quite insistent that all the women of the house, even those honest enough to admit that they were not the owner of any such remarkable shoe, try the slipper on. So, begrudgingly, Lex would produce the shoe and kneel before the first woman.

“Isn’t that a man’s shoe?” she would ask.

“It’s also made of glass,” Lex would point out. “My beloved has unusual taste.” The woman would then slip her foot in the shoe, which would inevitably dwarf it. And so Lex would go to the next woman in line, and the next and the next, until every single woman there had tried to shoe on and found it much too big. Then, with apologies for wasted time, Lex and Sanatori would take their leave, and their guards would accompany them to the next house, where the process would begin again.

Very, very tedious.

It did help a little that after some time word got around what the prince was doing, and most places they called upon would already have everyone lined up and waiting in the front room, the women with one foot bare. Though Lex did draw the line, and the guards were none too fond of the prospect either, at the women who wanted to accost him in the street to try the shoe on. The logistics of trying to locate each person in the city, much less the kingdom, were already difficult enough now as they were trying to go about things in a systematic manner, he refused to make it even more difficult just because some women laked patience. Sanatori did once attempt to point out that the more women they had try on the shoe, the more quickly they would find the one Lex was looking for, but he only did so the once and he did not push over-hard even then because, despite the king’s orders, Sanatori found it difficult to argue against the merits of a good system.

They had worked through the morning and well into the afternoon, trying the shoe on foot after foot after foot, by the time they reached the Kent (and Lang) residence. The widowed Nell Kent ushered Lex and Sanatori into the front room of her shop, where she and her niece Lana had been waiting, both with one stocking foot prepared. In short order Lex had attempted to fit his glass shoe on each of them, and said his good-byes and gone to leave when once again the shoe did not to fit.

“Wait!”

Lex turned back around to look at Lana, who was now wringing her hands a bit with nerves. “I’m not trying to presume, but… I’m sure that shoe would fit Clark.”

“Lana,” Nell chastened, “don’t waste his highness’s time.”

“Who is Clark?” Lex asked. If there was someone else living here, Lex would have to be sure to see him before he left.

“Clark is my stepson, and while Lana is very likely right about the shoe fitting him, I’m sure it’s not relevant, since you’re only having women try the shoes on. And Clark didn’t attend the ball last night, meaning he wouldn’t be able to help you find your mystery woman either, so I didn’t think it was worth the bother of interrupting his chores to come out to greet you as well.”

“But I swear I saw Clark at the ball last night! I don’t know where he got those clothes from, but I think I can recognize my own brother. Besides, when we got back I went up to his room to talk to him, but he didn’t even notice me poke my head in because he was too busy waltzing about the room. Actually waltzing, and I didn’t think Clark even knew how to waltz.”

It didn’t necessarily mean anything, Lex knew. The girl could be wrong about seeing her brother at the ball, and even if she were right, it would hardly be surprising that a man might be a bit excited after spending an evening attending an event he never would normally get to see in his lifetime. Yes, it was surely a coincidence, and yet a sense of urgency began to overtake Lex.

“Go and fetch your son at once,” Lex said, the words coming out a bit sharper than he had intended. Nell looked surprised, but to her credit she didn’t protest or question the orders, merely dropped a quick curtsy and rushed to obey them.

The same could not be said of Sanatori, unfortunately. “The woman is right, Highness; why are we wasting our time with this?”

“It is my time to waste if I wish to,” Lex rebuked. “Besides, aren’t you the one constantly reminding me that I vowed to try the shoe on every single foot in the kingdom? We have been remiss so far in only trying it on half the people we have met. In fact, perhaps I should ask Miss Lang to remove her other slipper so I may try the glass shoe on her left foot as well.” Sanatori looked quietly mutinous at this, but he did not offer further protest.

Lana, for her part, seemed to have gotten over her nerves and only appear vaguely amused by their exchange, raising her a few point higher in Lex’s estimation.

Nell returned only a few minutes later. “My son, Clark.”

The man who walked in the room behind her was a bit of a mess and was wearing very plain-stated clothing that honestly did little to flatter his figure, but he looked just as divine as he had the night before, perhaps even more so; the simplicity of his surroundings suited him. His eyes were downcast when he entered and he quickly swept into a passable bow, if not nearly as technically proficient as his foster sister’s curtsy. “You wanted me, your Highness?”

“Very much so,” Lex agreed, his voice deep and smooth.

Clark’s head jerked up, his eyes comically wide. “I… You… You were wearing a wig last night,” he accused.

The others in the room looked faintly dismayed at Clark’s extremely informal address, though to be fair Sanatori had been looking faintly dismayed for the greater part of the day, but Lex merely let out a bout of true mirthful laughter. “Indeed I was. You really had no idea who I was, did you? I wondered.” Not in the moment, in the moment it had seemed impossible that such perfect innocence could be faked, but come the cold light of morning, he had wondered. But it appeared that, for the first time, his cynicism was being proven wrong, and Lex couldn’t be more pleased.

“How was I supposed to know; you never said anything,” Clark replied mulishly. Lex couldn’t stop grinning.

“I suppose you do know why I’m here though,” Lex asked.

Quite suddenly, Clark appeared to completely deflate. Lex couldn’t have possibly read the situation wrong could he?

“You’re looking for the girl you fell in love with last night.” So he hadn’t read it wrong after all; Clark just hadn’t heard the whole story.

“Mmmm,” Lex said noncommittedly. “Do you know how I’m going to identify that person?”

“If you love her, shouldn’t you just recognize her?” Clark asked, perplexed.

“I’m afraid that wouldn’t be enough for my father. He would insist on some sort of proof.” And Lionel would, had he cared about who Lex married beyond her potential childbearing abilities (and potential is all it would have been, even had Lex chosen to marry a woman, because he had no intention in bring a child of his into the world while Lionel was still alive). “Luckily, a token was left behind. Well, token is probably an inaccurate term,” Lex said, pulling the shoe back out from where he had tucked it into his jacket. “It really is such very lovely artistry, I can’t imagine you left it behind on purpose.”

Nell looked shocked at his pronouncement, while Lana made a high sound of delight and threw her arms around her brother in a congratulatory hug. Clark was looking rather shocked as well, plus a bit nauseated -

Lex was going to blame the latter on nerves.

“I did,” Clark said softly after a moment, then repeated louder, “I did leave it behind on purpose.  I wasn’t sure that you wanted it, but I wanted you to have it, none-the-less. I kept the other with me.” Clark reached into his pocket and pulled out another shoe that was a match for the one Lex held in his hands.

Lex felt a smile overtake his face. “It’s a gift I will treasure. Although, two such perfectly matching pieces; they belong together, don’t you think?” Lex went down on one knee and indicated Clark’s feet. “If I may?”

Seeming almost half-transfixed, Clark lifted his foot up so that Lex could put the glass shoe on it, and then, at Lex’s request, handed him the other shoe so that that could be put on his feet as well, all over Sanatori’s sputtered protests. Once both shoes were on, Lex turned the third, thus far silent member of their party, whom Lex had handpicked himself. The Captain of the Guard, Pete Ross, did not always get along with Lex on a personal level, but the man was unfailingly loyal. And, more importantly, he extended that loyalty to Lex over the king. “Captain, if you would please come and witness.”

Captain Ross crossed the room to Lex’s side and stood at full attention. “Your Highness?”

“The glass shoe, it fits Clark perfectly, does it not?”

“Yes, your Highness.”

“And the shoe that Clark has provided, it is a match for the one that was left behind last night, correct?”

“Yes, your Highness.”

“So then, by the king’s decree, Clark is the man I am to marry,” Lex concluded.

“Woman,” Sanatori objected, finding his coherence once again. “His Majesty decreed that you were to wed the woman whose foot fit the glass slipper.”

Lex turned a pleasantly perplexed look on Sanatori. “Woman? As I recall, his Majesty said could marry the wearer of the glass slippers, whom Clark clearly is, and I know I never said anything about a woman. Captain,” Lex continued, turning back to Captain Ross, “you were in the Great Hall this morning, is this also your recollection?”

A very mischievous grin slowly spread across Captain Ross’s face. “Aye, your Highness, ‘the wearer of the glass slippers,’ that’s exactly how I remember it.”

“There you are, Sanatori. I will apologize to my father, of course, if anything I said may have unintentionally confused or misled him, but as it stands, he has already given me his word that I may marry Clark. And the king’s word is his bond.” Or at least it was when he gave it in front of the assembled court.

Lex turned back to Clark, still on one knee, though now the stance had taken on a different meaning. “All this depends, however on your answer. Clark, will you marry me?”

Being tackled to the floor of a seamstress’s shop and kissed within an inch of his life wasn’t exactly what Lex originally had in mind as the conclusion to his quest, but he couldn’t find it in him to object to the change.

And they all (except for Lionel) lived happily ever after.


End file.
